


Through Wood and Dale

by ami_ven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: writerverse, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil have to wait for their extraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Wood and Dale

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "Kubla Khan" (poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge) & "chemistry"

“This sort of thing always seems to happen to us, doesn’t it, sir?” asked Clint, as he settled his quiver on his shoulders and began dividing provisions into his various jacket pockets.

Phil looked up from where he was salvaging their SHIELD-issue supplies. “It seems to happen when you steal vehicles off the repair line,” he said, dryly.

“I keep telling you, they’re easier to swipe.”

“And easier to break,” Phil added. “One of these days, perhaps we’ll manage not to crash at all.”

Clint grinned, taking one of the packs he held out. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Phil smiled back for a moment, then shouldered his own pack. “We’d better get moving. The satellite transmitter from the plane is intact, and if we can get it up to that ridge, we can call in our location and get a ride out of here.”

“Sounds like a plan, sir,” Clint agreed. “We’ll be home in time for dinner.”

“Are you cooking?” asked Phil, as they started off into the jungle.

“Sure. How does pasta sound? No, too simple, I can do better than that. What about…”

Phil let him ramble on about various recipes he’d been meaning to try and the merits of making certain things from scratch or using pre-made short-cuts, only half-listening to the words. Clint liked to talk and Phil had found he enjoyed listening to his colorful commentary— even most of their friends didn’t understand how completely seamless they were together, how they complemented each other in absolutely every way.

“How much farther to this ridge, anyway?” Clint asked, cutting off his own description of how to properly construct a BLT.

“About a hundred feet, straight up,” said Phil. “You might want to save your breath for climbing.”

He was almost disappointed that Clint did, but the rock face was fairly steep and both of them needed their whole attention to keep their footing secure. Clint had a bit of an advantage, with his combat boots instead of Phil’s shiny dress shoes, but he’d taken the heavier pack, so he only made it to the top of the ridge a moment before Phil did.

The archer sat on the ground, catching his breath, and looking out over the jungle. “ _And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills_ ,” he quoted, softly. “ _Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree_.”

“ _And here were forests ancient as the hills_ ,” Phil continued, “ _Enfolding sunny spots of greenery_.”

Clint grinned at him. “You know, you’re the only person who’s not surprised I know poetry.”

“That’s because you leave your books all over my office,” said Phil. “But I thought Tennyson was your favorite, not Coleridge.”

“Yeah, but this made me think of _Kubla Kahn_. There’s not enough enemy fire for it to be _The Charge of the Light Brigade_ or _Morte D’Arthur_.”

Phil snorted. “And part of the reason is that you enjoy letting people think— and I quote— that you’re an uneducated ex-carny.”

“Keeps ‘em off-balance,” said Clint, grinning. “Now, are we gonna call for a ride home, or what, sir?”

Phil smiled back and pulled the transmitter out of Clint’s pack, quickly setting it up on the level rock face. In a few minutes, he had it tuned to the SHIELD emergency frequency and set up their retrieval.

“They’ll be here in about an hour,” he explained. “We’re low priority, since we’re not under fire, and there’s no one closer.”

“A whole hour, huh?” said Clint. “Guess we’ll just have to wait.”

He held out his arm, just a little, but Phil took the invitation, settling beside Clint to watch the sun set over the jungle.

THE END


End file.
